


Masterpiece

by Amajohn_Milk_Tea



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18479974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amajohn_Milk_Tea/pseuds/Amajohn_Milk_Tea
Summary: Layla,an aspiring writer who has a shaky past. San, an extroverted part-time barista, who hopes to own his own cafe one day.  One fateful day that entwines both their stories in a way that can never be unraveled.





	1. Peppermint Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo~~ :)
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing an AU or anything on the internet. While bf-gf relationship is not the main focus of this story there are some really fluffy parts. Feel free to comment any suggestions here or DM me on IG:@_ns.peanut
> 
> I'll be updating at least two times a week (fingers crossed!) 
> 
> Enjoy!~~

It's so difficult to be yourself when others are extremely skilled. Sometimes I wish there was a better me. Beggars can't be choosers and I'm stuck in this vicious cycle with disappointing myself and others. The light at the end of the tunnel had dimmed and I stumbled in the darkness alone. I trod carefully to not disturb the fragile silence.

I felt a presence looming behind me, the shadow stretched over the page I filled out. Instinctively, my hand went to cover the paper, my body turned to the left to prevent the stranger from invading even more.

" Sorry if i was invading, it caught my eye and I read it without your permission."

A young guy, early 20s' ,wearing a barista apron slid into my booth across from me, setting a cup of peppermint tea in front of me. He propped his elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hands, his apologetic brown eyes staring into my piercing black ones. I couldn't help but notice his biceps bulged from underneath his rolled sleeves, and I, very shamelessly, stared for a couple of seconds before pulling myself together.

" Are you an aspiring novelist? Your work is excellent. A work of art, really."

Suspicious, I gave him a hard look, but he looked so sincere, I asked him the first question that I could muster to steer this conversation away from praise for my shitty work.

" How do you know I like peppermint tea with whipped cream topped with crushed candy cane?" I raised my right eyebrow and pushed my (non-prescribed) glasses up my nose, trying to look as cool as possible.

He pointed to his apron. " I work here, and you order the same thing, like every day."

He raised his left eyebrow. "I have a question for you too. Why do you come into a coffee shop at least twice a week for 5 months and not order coffee at least once?"

I leaned my and crossed my legs . " Coffee's bitter. Besides, no need to add on to my angst even more."

He had started to shake with boisterous laughter, his laugh silent, his face red and scrunched up.

" You're a pretty funny girl."

" Pretty or Funny?"

"Both."

"...Gross."

He laughed again, this time it sounding light and airy, almost like music. I had to fight the urge to grab my pen and write a description of it.

" Nice to meet you. I'm San." He extended his arm across the table, an invitation to shake. "What's your name?"

I smiled slightly, the first smile I had given today and replied softly. "Layla."

I looked at the clock and mentally cursed. I have to get home before midnight. I began to pack up and slung my backpack over my shoulder. " I have to go. Goodnight San." I opened the cafe exit door, the little wind chimes twinkling in the wind. I stepped out, the night air crisp and cool against my skin and went home.


	2. Chapter 2: A Bowl of Milk

The weak winter sun cast a soft light through the cracks in my bedroom curtains, the frost gleaming on the window pane. I rubbed my eyes furiously and scratched my head. I was well aware that I hadn't taken a shower before I collapsed from exhaustion last night.

 

"Eww. Who knew I could produce such a putrid smell fro my underarms?" I chuckled under my breath like a madman before heaving my body from my warm, soft bed unto my feet.

 

i grabbed my towel and beelined for the bath, where I soaked until I pruned. My tense body relaxed under the warm water, my aching shoulders feeling relief. Reluctantly I began to finish up, knowing I'd be probably be here all day if I could.

 

I wrapped my head with a towel, and put on my warm bathrobe and stepped into the kitchen. Pouring  some milk into my chipped, light blue bowl, I looked into the cupboard for some cereal, forgotten that I was supposed to go get some yesterday after class. 

 

"Shit." I scratched my arm furiously and stamped my foot on the floor. 

 

"Maybe Hongjoong will have some." I walked down the hall, well aware I was still wearing only a bathrobe and some underwear to his apartment. Hongjoong was like a brotherly figure t me ever since we were young. I often stayed at his house when the fights at home got disastrous. I could trust him.  He treated me like I was his younger sister, always taking care of me, bandaging my cuts and burns, and wrote me songs.

 

I rang his door bell, my bare feet tickled by his fluffy welcome mat outside his door.  To my surprise, it wasn't Hongjoong who opened the door but Seonghwa. If Hongjoong was like a brother to me, Seonghwa was like my second mother.  Working part-time in high school was tiring, and he made sure I never left the house without breakfast and never slept hungry. He helped me with my homework late nights refusing to go to sleep until I figured it out. I always felt that they cared about me more than my real parents who spent every free second picking fights with each other.

 

"Why are you standing in the hallway naked at 10 in the morning?" Seonghwa had a disturbed expression on his face, him eyeing the bowl of milk I held in my hand.

 

I smiled sheepishly. "You got any cereal?"

 

Seonghwa grabbed my arm and dragged me inside. "Do all novelists act like this? I knew it, I should have scolded you  into becoming a doctor."  He lead me into the kitchen, the smell of sweet cinnamon making me drool. I sat on a kitchen stool and he brought me cinnamon pancakes with blue berries and banana, with a glass of milk on the the counter.

 

"Yes. Speak from the Asian mother within you." I inhaled the pancakes and began choking on the cinnamon powder.

 

"If I acted out the Asian mom within me, I would have beat your ass already. Where are your clothes?"

 

I chugged down the milk and signaled for more. "I was only stopping by to ask for some cereal."

 

"Don't you have class today?"

 

We stared at each other, his disapproving look hardened by my realization that if I didn't reach the campus in 30 minutes, I'd be late for my lecture.

 

"Well.. fuck."

 


End file.
